Saturday, November 2, 2013

Your Lens

by Vicki Scott Burns
Point my lens at the trees, try to capture the leaves; 
their stories told as they begin to fall.
Once but mere little shoots, then You set down their roots, 
and now they’ve grown more than thirty feet tall.

Bright yellows and greens were the first colors seen 
as autumn knocked upon summer’s door.
Then the air became chilled, the crisp nights became still; 
crowns of red jewels all the trees now adorn.

The trees sway and they dance by the brush of Your hand, 
with gentle breezes and in mighty winds.
They weather the seasons, they keep changing with time. 
They’ll be stripped bare soon but won’t seem to mind.

I shoot frame after frame and their beauty’s the same, 
my soul so moved that I scarcely can breathe.
And I wonder, my God, when You look through Your lens, 
if this tree’s all that You hoped it would be.
Oh, to see this tree through Your lens…

On this crisp autumn day, my soul dances and sways, 
keeping time with the touch of Your hand.
But my colors all change and my leaves rearrange 
when pain and fear upon my branches land.

God, help me weather seasons, help me change with time. 
Strip me bare, Lord, and I’ll try not to mind…

Now Your lens points to me, aimed to capture my leaves; 
true colors revealed as each leaf does fall. 
I’m a mere little shoot, but in Christ I have roots. 
In Him, may I stand thirty feet tall.

As You shoot frame after frame, is my beauty the same? 
Is Your soul moved that You scarcely can breathe?
And I wonder, my God, when You look through Your lens,
am I all that You hoped I would be?
Oh, to see myself through Your lens…

God, help me weather seasons, help me change with time. 
Strip me bare, Lord, and I’ll try not to mind…

As You shoot frame after frame, is my beauty the same?
Is Your soul moved that You scarcely can breathe?
And I wonder, my God, when You look through Your lens, 
am I all that You hoped I would be?

Please, help me see myself through Your lens…

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